


I Will Follow You Into The Dark

by 6_no_i_am_not_straight_7



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Angst, Gay, Keith and Lance are idiots, M/M, Modern AU, Oral Sex, angsty smut, backstory will be explained, did i mention gay, lube is used, major cities, oh the angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6_no_i_am_not_straight_7/pseuds/6_no_i_am_not_straight_7
Summary: Keith Kogane and Lance McClain don't know each other. At least, that's what the world thinks. They are running from each other, city to city to city, and Lance thinks Keith is only in this arrangement for the sex. But Keith thinks that too. Every city they find each other in, they think, "surely this is the last." But it isn't. Because from the day they met, something deep inside them knew that they weren't meant to be separate. They belonged together, whether for love or sex or friendship, they mattered to each other. More than almost anything else.





	1. When You Loved Me

**Author's Note:**

> I Thirst For Appreciation
> 
> Please I can't show this to my school tutor even though he's gay

_Ghent, Belgium, 11:34 p.m._

 

Lance’s head spun. He’d been drinking a good deal of the night, mostly beer. In the last few hours he’d switched to whiskey shots. It was some kind of national holiday. Lance didn’t really care. The bar was loud and full, and Lance felt hot. Too hot. His glazed eyes slid over the crowd before focusing on a familiar pair of violet eyes. The owner of those eyes looked just as drunk as Lance was, but they had an unspoken agreement. Always had, since the first day Lance had confessed his feelings and Keith had gently told him no.

Lance didn’t break eye contact as he took his last shot and slammed down a hundred-dollar bill.

“Keep the change,” he muttered to the bartender. He slid off the bar stool and made his way to the open front door. He took a deep breath of cool night air on the porch, the noise and light of the bar a dull buzz in the back of his head.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Keith’s voice came, low and gravelly through the haze of Lance’s muddled brain. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, offering it to Lance. Lance shrugged and took it.

“Feeling’s mutual, mullet,” he murmured. He passed the cigarette back and finally turned to really look at Keith. Lance stopped breathing for a moment.

Keith was beautiful tonight. His black jeans seemed tighter than usual, and every curve of his thick thighs and gorgeous ass were accentuated. He was wearing a black tee-shirt ripped up, as though someone had taken a knife to it. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders and draped around his body. His dark eyeliner contrasted starkly with his snakebite piercings and hints of blood-red lipstick, obviously mostly kissed off.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, sharpshooter,” Keith chuckled. Lance blushed as he realized he’d said that out loud. Keith took another drag on the cigarette, his bright yellow painted nails shining in the light from the bar.

“Where you staying?” he asked.

Lance mentally shook himself.

“Hotel up the street,” he said. “Not enough people in there.”

Keith’s eyes glinted. “How many you had tonight?” he asked.

“Three,” Lance lied. Truthfully, he hadn’t been with anyone that night. He never was. He just told Keith he was. Keith hummed. He dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot tip.

“Lead the way,” Keith said, starting down the steps. Lance followed, stumbling slightly.

“How much have you had to drink?” Keith laughed as he grabbed Lance’s arm. Lance didn’t answer. He stayed mostly quiet during their walk through the flower-scented streets, through the empty hotel lobby. He ignored the knowing look from the girl at the desk. The elevator was empty, and Keith took this as an opportunity to shove Lance up against the wall and hungrily slam their mouths together. Lance clumsily swept his tongue over Keith’s lips, tasting vodka and caramel and hints of lipstick and another man’s cum.

Keith was a slut. He didn’t mind that word, and Lance was pretty sure that a lot of guys in almost every major city in the world knew it. He could get five, six hookups on a good night, and Lance knew it. He tried to ignore it as he took Keith’s hand and tugged him down the hall until they reached Lance’s hotel room. Almost before the door was shut, Keith was pushing him against it and sinking to his knees, eagerly undoing Lance’s fly and taking his cock in his mouth. Lance’s head hit the door as he tried to hold back a moan. This...he never got tired of this. Keith’s warm heat encasing his dick as he bobbed his head around Lance’s shaft. His tongue flickered over the head and Lance let out a strained groan. Keith popped off with a sly grin and looked up at Lance, using his hand to pump Lance’s cock.

“God, Keith,” Lance whispered. He couldn’t take it. He grabbed Keith by the shoulder and pulled him up, leading him to the bed and pushing him to sit on it.

“Nuh uh, Lancey Lance,” Keith said, shaking his head. He patted the bed next to him. “You’re drunk, baby. You’re not sticking your dick in me. I’m in control tonight.” Lance stared at Keith for a second, until Keith huffed and added, “ _Lay down_.”

Lance shivered. He could never resist Keith, not when he used that tone. He obeyed, clumsily stripping off his clothes on the way.

“Lube?” Keith asked, shucking off his leather jacket and reaching down to undo his boots.

“Um...in the bag,” Lance managed, struggling with the buttons on his no-longer crisp white shirt. Keith toed off his boots before turning to Lance’s duffel bag with the words _Altea Enterprises_ stamped on it in silver filigree without comment on the new job. He unzipped it and found the lube. When he turned back around, Lance was naked, watching Keith with hooded eyes and slowly stroking himself. Keith’s breath left him in an amused huff.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” he said in that low voice that sent shivers down Lance’s spine. Lance opened his mouth to answer but Keith shoved his fingers inside with a command. “Suck.”  
Lance obeyed, swirling his tongue around the digits and slicking them up while Keith flipped open the lube. Keith’s whispered praises left Lance shaking and whining, wanting, needing.

Lance didn’t remember much after that. He remembered Keith’s hot mouth, leaving marks where his shirt would easily hide them in the morning. He remembered the crinkle of the condom opening. He remembered Keith pounding him from behind, his thick cock pistoning into Lance’s hole. He remembered Keith yanking back his head and whispering dirty things into his ear. He remembered the sound of water running in the bathroom, and the quiet rustling of Keith’s clothes, and the quiet click of the room door.

Lance woke up six hours later, with two hours until the meeting he’d come here for and a raging hangover. He slowly sat up in bed, noting that Keith had at least had the decency to clean Lance up a bit before leaving. Lance’s clothes were still littered over the floor, the lube on the nightstand and a carefully tied condom in the trash. Lance dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the ache in his heart and his ass. He went and showered.

When he was done, he dressed carefully in the suit he’d brought for the meeting and made himself a cup of coffee. He downed three Advil and sat staring out the window with his coffee. It hadn’t always been like this.

* * *

 

They’d met in third grade. Keith was brought into the classroom, the transfer from New York. It was odd, someone like him moving to California. It wasn’t his choice, he later told Lance. The foster system had landed him there. His mother was missing. His father was dead. A Catholic couple in L.A. had chosen to take him in, to raise along with their six other children. On the first day, Lance had caught up with Keith after school and asked to walk him home.

“Why would you want to?” Keith asked. “You don’t know me.”

“That’s why!” Lance laughed. “I wanna be your friend.”  
Keith had looked at him, wary. The pale, scrawny, half-Asian kid from a bad part of New York? Yeah. Lance wanted to be friends with him.

“Sure,” Keith muttered.

“Great!” Lance said with a grin.  
From that day on, despite Keith’s indifference, he and Lance hung out almost every day. Keith was invited to Lance’s house, to meet his loud, rambunctious family, not that different from the family that he was with. Lance was not always welcome in Keith’s foster home, but Keith’s foster parents tolerated him. Samuel and Summer Brooks were of the “private” opinion that Lance’s family were immigrants who did not belong in America. Of course, they never said so to Lance’s face, or to any members of Lance’s family, but Keith heard them talking. They couldn’t be more wrong.

That first year, Keith had been livid when his foster parents wanted to change his last name. He was not a Brooks. He was not white. His last name was Kogane, thank you very much. Lance had laughed and said that of course it was, no one could really change that, his name belonged to him. His ethnicity belonged to him.  
Despite his expectations, Lance had grown on Keith. He no longer went along with Lance’s ideas and invitations because he had nothing else to do. He went because he genuinely liked Lance. He enjoyed spending time with Lance. He hadn’t smiled much since his father died and he’d been sent to L.A. But Lance made him smile.

* * *

 

 

Lance finished his coffee and checked his watch. He winced. His headache still wasn’t gone, and he had half an hour to get to his meeting. He had a flight in three hours, back to L.A. Lance threw his cup into the trash and picked up his duffle, neatly packed with everything he’d brought. A glint of metal caught his eye and he stopped. One of Keith’s silver rings lay on the floor, reflecting light into Lance’s eyes. Lance considered. He dropped it into the hotel’s lost-and-found on his way out.

Lance walked quickly through the bright streets of Ghent. The happy spring light brightened up the gothic churches and old buildings, and the many flower shops lining the streets let a sweet scent into the air.

The glass doors of the new-looking building opened automatically, and Lance strode through.

“Lance McClain, meeting with Ryna Olkari?” he said to the girl at the desk.

“One moment, Mr. McClain.”

 

Lance’s flight was late. He’d easily secured a business deal between Olkari Inc. and Altean Enterprises. That didn’t surprise him. He was a people person, always good at knowing what people wanted. A flash of red caught his eye, and he turned to see a familiar head of black hair. A bright red-clad ass was leaning over the counter at the Starbucks booth, and the owner of said ass was chatting up the boy at the register. Lance smirked. Keith always got what he wanted. Be it money, sex, free coffee. Lance honestly didn’t know how he did it.

Keith looked up for a minute. Their eyes met for a split second before Keith turned away again, but a moment later he wiggled the fingers on one hand in a way meant to catch only Lance’s attention. The missing ring glinted on his finger. A silent thank-you.  
That was all. See, in public, they were strangers. That was the deal. Lance heard his flight called and hurried away to the gate. He had a meeting with Allura tomorrow.


	2. Dirty Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris, France. Late spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Have Sold My Soul to this AU.  
> The chapter title is from a song. Don't know who it's by.

_Paris, France, 1:13 p.m._

  
  


The next time Lance saw Keith, Keith was wearing killer heels and a dark red suit jacket over his usual black jeans. His shirt was gray and looked soft, and his hair was carefully styled. Lance couldn’t tell from the distance, but he thought Keith was wearing mascara. His lips shone in the bright afternoon light, and Lance knew he was wearing lip gloss.

Lance was sitting at a street cafe, eating _pain au chocolate_ and reading his next assignment from Allura. He looked up when he heard a familiar laugh, and his movement must have caught Keith’s eye, because he stopped flirting with the man across the street and sauntered over to sit across from Lance.

“Hey, handsome,” Keith purred. “Come to enjoy the city of love?”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Does that line work often?” he asked.

Keith shrugged. “Often enough.” His eyebrow raised at Lance’s plate. “At this time of day?” he asked with a chuckle. Lance didn’t answer.

“I work at the Marmora for the next couple months,” Keith said smoothly. “If you’re around, you should come by.”

Lance set down his tablet. “And what’s the Marmora?” he inquired, slightly suspiciously. Keith slid a card face-down across the table. He winked, and Lance saw that he was indeed wearing mascara.

“See you there, lover boy,” Keith said before getting up and sauntering off, heels clicking against the stones of Paris’s streets.

Curious, Lance flipped over the card. The Marmora was a strip club, he quickly learned, and if Keith had said he was working there…

Lance was a weak, weak, man. Had been for years. Well, mostly when it came to Keith.

 

* * *

  
  


They met Pidge in eighth grade. She was ten, and in detention for hacking into the local pet shelter and opening all the electric locks on the cages. She had done it because she hated to see the animals all locked up. The court, incredibly perplexed, had said she should do a month of detention. Keith and Lance were in detention because of Lance’s bright idea to climb onto the school roof and try to jump safely to the ground.

“We’re ninjas!” He insisted. “It’ll be awesome!”

It was not awesome, and Keith had broken an ankle. Looking back on it, Lance admitted that it was a stupid idea. Now, in detention, Lance and Keith were sitting close on the bench. Pidge was angrily muttering next to them. They’d already listened to her whole rant. A sullen-looking boy with long silver hair slumped on the far side of the bench, staring at the ground. He was Miss Honerva’s son, Lotor. He was in detention for punching a boy named Hunk in the chest so hard that Hunk threw up.

“Hey,” Lotor said, glaring at Keith.

“What d’you want, Lotor?” Keith grouched back.

“You’re a homo, aren’t you?”

At that even Pidge looked up, her eyes wide. Everyone in school knew that that wasn’t something you said to someone.

Keith’s expression darkened. “The word is gay,” he said with a scowl.

Lance scooted to the side and looked at Keith askance.

“What?! And you didn’t tell me?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith muttered. Lance knew that Keith was right. If his foster parents knew, it would end badly for everyone.

“Uh, yeah it does,” Lotor said, his face wrinkling in disgust. “That’s wrong. You’re a fucking faggot.”

Lance jumped up. WIthout saying a word, he hauled back and punched Lotor in the nose. With a sickening crack, Lotor’s nose broke and leaked bright red blood all over his immaculate white shirt. The matronly woman at the desk jumped up and scolded Lance at once, taking Lotor to the nurse.

Lance didn't care. His mama shouted at him when he got home, but it didn’t matter to him. Nobody talked to Keith like that. Nobody. Later, Keith asked him why he did it. Lance sighed.

“You’re my best friend,” he told Keith. “What else could I do?” It was then that Lance thought, maybe he liked boys, too.

That wasn’t the last time Lotor caused trouble for Keith. In ninth grade, after Hunk and his best friend Romelle had joined their little band, Lotor called up Samuel and Summer, and told them that their foster son was gay. They had taken him out of school for a week, and when Keith called Lance in a panic saying that they were trying to send him to a conversion camp, Lance had had enough. He called out Lotor in front if the entire school, in front of the teachers, the principal, and broke his nose again. The matter was looked into by the state, and Keith was placed in a group home. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the best, either.

Keith had started to go downhill from there. A man named Takashi Shirogane had tried to adopt him out of the group home, but Keith wouldn’t go. He’d fallen in with a group of kids led by a boy named Rolo. Rolo was trouble. Every kid in the school knew him. He dealt booze to eighth-graders, pot to everyone else, and reportedly gave kids cigarettes for free. Keith had started to drift away from Lance and the gang. He’d climb in Lance’s window in the middle of the night, smelling of drugs and alcohol, and crash with Lance while Lance tried desperately to find a way to get him out. That was, until Keith met James.

James was the dark L.A. fuck boy, the leader of the kids who mostly came out after dark, who lived in the shadows and didn’t trust anyone. He knew how to get any drug on the street, and he’d fuck anyone who showed interest. He was twenty-three to Keith’s seventeen, and taught Keith everything he knew about the streets. Keith started climbing in Lance’s window limping and smelling of sex as well as pot, dressed in crop tops and wearing makeup.

Lance finally knew that enough was enough when Keith quietly knocked on his window one night sniffling, in a hoodie that wasn’t his and tiny shorts that clearly showed the blood trickling down his thighs. Lance let him cry, then wrapped him up and let him sleep before going to his parents.

They called the EMTs. Keith was taken to the hospital, had the drugs filtered out of his system and the guy responsible for hurting him arrested. He’d come back to Lance and the gang after that. But he was different. This new Keith wore makeup and provocative clothes, crop tops, shorts, sometimes skirts. Once, when he wasn’t expecting it, Lance had watched Keith bend over and caught a glimpse of scarlet panties. He was the school’s gay heartthrob, and he played boys like dolls.

By then Lance knew that he was definitely bisexual, and in his eyes, Keith was the best of both worlds. After his time on the streets, Keith had started to work out more. He learned martial arts and developed a thing for knives. Keith was sexy, plain and simple, and Lance was weak.

* * *

  
  


_Paris, France, 10:17 p.m._

  


The _Marmora_ was lit up with bright violet lights. Neon and glaring, and Lance nodded to the bouncer at the door before slipping in and taking an inconspicuous seat in the back. A girl with skin painted silver was curled around the pole, shimmying herself out of dark blue panties. Lance glanced once at her ass appreciatively before sitting back to wait for what he came for. He didn’t have to wait long. After two more dancers, one called Plaxum and one called Ruby Dust, “Keith” was announced. His stage name was Crimson, and in Lance’s opinion, he was the sexiest person in the building. Possibly the entire city.

His legs were encased in black faux leather, and he was wearing a loose red tank top and a flowing black scarf wrapped around his shoulders and tied around his waist. It was see-through, and Lance could see the top of a garter belt peeking out of the pants. He danced to a song in French that Lance had never heard before, but he wanted to grab Keith and take him away from all the eyes watching him. He wanted to be the only one to ever see Keith like that. Rolling his hips, sensually running his hands down his chest, slowly taking off his clothes.

Keith was indeed wearing stockings and garters, and blood-red panties. Those came off around the end of the song, only to reveal a black thong that hid nothing from view. Keith caught Lance’s eye as he was leaving the stage, and he paused, licked his lips, and winked.

Lance almost bolted for the curtained-off doorway labeled _Private Rooms_. Keith was already in the closest one, ripping off the thong and turning to reveal a scarlet plug in his ass.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, and Lance didn’t hesitate. He pushed Keith to bend over the arm of the purple couch in the room and pulled out the plug.

“You already got yourself ready?” Lance asked in awe.

“You know me Lance, now get on with it,” Keith demanded breathily.

Lance hesitated. “Condom?”

“Don’t need one, please, now, _fuck me,_ ” Keith begged, and, well, who was Lance to refuse. He almost broke the zipper of his jeans with how fast he ripped it down and pumped his cock a little to get the pre-cum slicked down over it. He’d been so hard, but hadn’t realized it because he was focused on Keith.

Keith’s gaping rim was pushed back, and the head of Lance’s cock caught on it. They both gasped.

“ _Fuck me,_ ” Keith whined, and Lance obliged. He pushed in with one thrust, making Keith yelp and scrabble at the couch. Lance’s groan mingled with keith’s high-pitched breathing. Lance pulled back and slammed in again, and Keith made a sound that could definitely be heard in the main club. After all, these private rooms had no doors.

“You know they can hear you,” Lance leaned down to murmur in Keith’s ear. Keith was making punched out little _uh, uh, uh,_ noises with each of Lance’s thrusts.

“I kn _oooww_ ,” Keith wailed.

“Does it turn you on?” Lance growled. “Being such a little slut, stripping for those assholes out there and then coming back here and letting them know that you’re getting fucked like the whore you are, c’mon, Keith. Admit it.”

“ _Ungh,_ Lance, your cock is so good, so deep,” Keith whined. Lance reached under Keith’s hips, and with no less than three strokes, Keith was cumming all over the deep purple fabric.

“Fuck,” Lance grunted, and spilled inside Keith just a moment later.

  
  
  
  


Lance wasn’t staying in Paris long. A few days to check on the French branch of Altean Enterprises. He ended up staying a day later than planned. There was a man he needed in his bed, like, yesterday.

  



	3. Your Holy Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madrid, Spain. Deep summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another song title, yay!

_ Madrid, Spain, 1:58 a.m. _

  
  


“Fuck,” Lance groaned. He wasn’t drunk, he was sure, but Keith’s mouth on him was making him dizzy. The stones in the alleyway dug into his back, and he twisted his fingers through Keith’s hair and tugged.

Keith popped off with a grunt. “What?” he whispered. Lance ran a hand over his face, trying to bring himself back to coherency. 

“Not...not here,” he managed. Keith looked up at him thoughtfully before tucking Lance’s dick back away and standing up.

“Where, then?”

Lance zipped himself up and rolled his eyes. “My hotel, dumbass.”

Keith huffed. “Come on, then. I wanna fuck you already.” Lance ran his eyes up and down Keith’s body as Keith started towards the street. It was hot out, so hot. Keith was wearing a loose white shirt and a tiny red skirt. His flip-flops made quiet slapping noises as they walked down the peaceful streets. Lance was sweating. 

When they made it to the room, Keith pushed Lance down on the bed and sank to his knees again. 

“Wait,” Lance started.

“Please let me do this,” Keith interrupted, laying his head on Lance’s thigh and looking up at him with those eyes Lance could never say no to. Lance gave in. Keith’s tongue was scorching, dipping into his slit and laving up and down his shaft. He sucked one of Lance’s balls into his mouth, and then took him down to the hilt. Lance gasped and barely stopped himself from choking Keith. Keith’s breath huffed through his nose and he swallowed around Lance’s cock. Lance came with a whine of Keth’s name.

They fell asleep together, curled up over the covers as the lazy heat swirled around them with the ceiling fan. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was when they graduated from high school. Lance had pulled Keith away from the party and quietly asked him a question. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Keith looked up at him, his eyes hooded with eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, lips pursed as he considered. 

“Yeah.”

Lance reached down to cup Keith’s face, before leaning down and gently pressing their lips together. It had quickly escalated, until Keith was dropping to his knees and asking with a low voice.

“You’re a virgin, right? Can I? Please?”

Lance nodded, and Keith had sucked him off for the first time. They had gone back to the party, and Lance asked if he could dance with Keith. They swayed slowly on the dance floor, and Lance finally got up the courage to tell Keith what he’d known for the past two years. 

“Keith, I think I’m in love with you.” 

Keith’s eyes went wide. He didn’t answer for a minute. 

“Lance. I can’t...no.”

Lance’s face fell. He started to drop his hands, but Keith grabbed on to them and pulled them back to his waist. 

“Lance, I like you a lot. You’re my best friend. But I don’t do commitments, and I care about you too much to lead you on. So no.”

Lance was quiet for a minute, refusing to look Keith in the eyes. 

“But,” he finally started, voice quiet and trembling. “Back there, in the hallway…”

Keith blinked, choosing his words carefully. 

“Spur of the moment. Instinct. That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. Did you?”

“Yeah,” Lance murmured, blushing.

“Do you think you could do it again? I mean, I could give you that much. I care about you, and I don’t want to hurt you, but if sex is enough for now, would you never ask me for an emotional commitment?”

Lance considered this. 

“Can I say no?” he whispered. 

Keith looked horrified. “Of course you can!” he burst out. “I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Yes,” Lance whispered. “Will you kiss me?” 

Keith reached up and pulled Lance into a bruising kiss.

* * *

  
  
  


_ Madrid, Spain, 6:32 a.m. _

 

Keith woke up first. His eyelids felt heavy in the heat, and the sun shone through the hotel window onto the floor. He blinked up at Lance’s sleeping face, his beautiful brown skin smooth in the light and damp with sweat.  Keith was still wearing his shirt, which stuck who his skin. He sat up and pulled it off, the movement waking Lance. 

Lance blinked up at Keith, a happy smile lighting up his face. Keith couldn’t resist smiling back, leaning down to press his lips against Lance’s smiling ones. The kiss deepened, Lance eagerly opening his mouth to welcome Keith’s tongue as Keith crawled over him and straddled his hips, pushing his ass back onto Lance’s erection. 

He pulled back and licked his lips, meeting Lance’s eyes which were unmistakably full of lust. 

“Can I fuck you?”

Lance nodded, pulling Keith back down to his mouth, licking inside and sucking on his tongue. Keith groaned. 

Keith fucked Lance slowly in the heavy heat. Lance clung to him and whispered praises with every slow drag of Keith’s hips. Keith’s hands slipped over Lance’s skin when he tried to hold on, so he bent down and fastened his teeth into the space between Lance’s neck and shoulder. Lance sobbed and reached up to pull Keith’s hair. Keith hissed in pleasure. 

When they were done, Keith wanted to stay. Just for a little. But Lance had to go, and Keith couldn’t follow. So he went to Buen Retiro and found a bench in the shade, watching the tourists and locals pass by. 

Keith liked his life. Never staying in one place too long, getting all the sex he wanted. But the truth was, every time he ran into Lance, he moved on. He was in love with Lance, but he didn’t think Lance felt the same anymore. It had been years. Surely Lance had found someone else to chase. That, or he was only still meeting up with Keith because it was easy sex. Keith felt trapped, every time he saw Lance again. That the world was too small, that there was no way to escape Lance or his feelings for him. 

Keith looked up. He thought he saw Lance across the water, but when he turned around, it was someone else. Keith sighed. It had gotten to the point where he thought he saw Lance everywhere. Somewhat disgruntled, Keith went to quit the job he’d been working at the coffee shop down the street. He’d only been here for six weeks. He had enough for a plane ticket to New York. It was time to start over again, until he ran into Lance and had to run, again. 

  
  



End file.
